


Into the Fire

by Rikako



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikako/pseuds/Rikako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~REWRITE IN PROGRESS, SEE "INTO THE FIRE (REDUX)"~</p>
<p>Vulpes turns to the Courier when he deserts a Legion under Lanius' rule. Without enough time before the battle for the dam for him to prove trustworthy, she puts him to work another way.</p>
<p>Written for the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Currently being rewritten: [Into the Fire (Redux)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10404027)

Vulpes stood in front of the Lucky 38, thinking back to the trail of Legionary corpses that happened to mark his path. Most of them had been executed with a clean head shot, but at one point he had found a pile of corpses that had clearly suffered, just past a cazador nest, the Courier having taken advantage of their timing to work off some frustration.

And now he was stepping right onto that woman's turf, unarmed and alone. He might have had a chance if she hadn't figured out he had originally sent the assassins, he thought bitterly, but it was much too late for that. The threats scrawled in Legion blood in the dirt had been addressed specifically to him.

Had he seriously run from Fortification Hill to New Vegas, and never once stopped to realize that he was walking right into a worse death than crucifixion? He wasn't given a chance to reconsider, as something connected with his side, hard. As darkness clouded his vision, through the jolt of pain he recognized it as a cattle prod.

Gradually, Vulpes became aware of his surroundings. A conversation was taking place, nearby he could tell, although the words were unclear. Unusually so for how close they must have been. Careful not to make any movements that would reveal that he was awake, he subtly shifted just enough to see if he was bound. It seemed he was, arms behind his back, wrists crossed, ankles pulled up to meet them. He tested the tension of the rope, the size of the loops, hoping for enough of a weak point to free himself. No such luck. He'd have to see how this played out.

"...not ... killed him the moment he was spotted on the Strip... but that's exactly what I'm saying! It's getting too close to the upcoming battle for this to not be an attempt at sabotage, or an assassination." Finally it seemed his mind was clearing up. It was a man's voice, most likely the Follower's doctor. Too much emotion obvious in his words for it to be the sniper. Simply too many words, at that.

"What could he possibly do like this?" a voice that clearly belonged to the Courier laughed. "I've got the best security detail right here. And even if I was killed before the battle, everyone's orders are clear enough the Legion is done for even without a single person calling the shots. Hell, it could work in our favor if you play me up as a martyr."

Vulpes realized he had been set on a bed when the Courier's weight made one side sink down. "Well, enough about that, I'm sure our guest is eager to explain himself, isn't he?" The Frumentarius tensed as she brushed her hand against his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

"It seems I can't hide from you, Courier.  I would have been... disappointed otherwise."  Vulpes tried to move to see her face, but his attempt was halted when she shoved his head back down onto the mattress.  "Well, where to begin?  I witnessed the aftermath of your slaughter at Fortification Hill.  Luck, if you could call it that, spared me.  Having been delayed, I did not return until you had finished your last sweep of the camp and were sorting through your _spoils_.  I had been certain I would have been hunted down when you realized I wasn't among the bodies."  
  
"Luck?  Vulpes, you wound me.  You're one of the few who have seen me for who I am.  If I decide my own agenda requires someone alive or dead, they will be that way in the end, and I will not have broken any orders.  The goal was eradication of the Legionaries at Fortification Hill.  I had decided I wanted you alive.  I had already completed my objective when you arrived, so sparing you didn't change that I had done what I had said."  
  
Vulpes narrowed his eyes as the Courier rolled him over onto his back so he could meet her eyes.  The doctor sat just beyond her.  "So you do as you please and use semantics to justify yourself?"  
  
"It's just a game I play with the NCR.  But please, go on.  Based on what you've said so far, it wouldn't be in your best interest to let me make my assumptions at this point."  
  
"I've told you about the Legate before," he began carefully, "a great warrior, but unsuited to lead.  He calls my tactics dishonorable and would have me on a cross for my acts at Nipton or Camp Searchlight alone, and now he has all the authority to do so."  
  
The Courier got up and began to pace back and forth in front of him.  "You deserted to escape Lanius.  But now what?  Did you think I would grant you asylum?  Or that perhaps that you'd convince me to let you into my little group of friends here?  That I'd trust you to fight alongside me at the Hoover Dam?  Did you just want a death Lanius wouldn't permit you to have?  Swiftly with my bullet through your brain, or honorable, one on one with machetes like in the arena?"  Her face darkened as she stopped to loom over him.  "Were you actually deluded enough to think you could ever be forgiven, that redemption would ever be available to you?"  
  
"Arcade?" she addressed the doctor without looking up.  "Grab that box on my workbench, please?"   
  
The moment he had left, Vulpes found himself being pulled off the bed, falling to the floor.  
  
"It doesn't matter what you were expecting, what you were hoping for, what you're _getting_ is punishment."  The rope connecting his bound wrists to his bound ankles was cut with a stained combat knife, leaving his limbs bound separately.  "Kneel," she commanded, and he struggled to his knees, obeying.  Arcade returned at that moment and wordlessly passed the Courier a small wood box, giving her a skeptical glance before leaving again.  
  
She set the box down on a desk and opened it out of his sight as she spoke again.  "Until you have been forgiven, you will stay here as my pet, my slave, and serve me.  If you've been paying attention, which I know you have..."  The Courier turned around and Vulpes gulped when he saw what she was holding.  Crouched down in front of him now, he tried to back up only to hit the side of the bed, and he heard the click of the slave collar locking tight around his neck.  "...then you'll remember that you will not be forgiven."


	3. Chapter 3

Vulpes bowed his head in submission, but left his eyes locked with the Courier's in defiance. It was subtle, and unlikely that a degenerate with no experience with slaves would catch it, but was also practical. The woman remained an enigma to him, and he refused to take his eyes off of her until he found a pattern in her actions, her reactions.

"Not bad, not bad, quick on the uptake. Maybe the Legion was good for something after all." She tilted his head up to look at him straight on. Vulpes said nothing.

"You will speak when spoken to, Vulpes. Although, I'd like for you to speak freely, up until it annoys me."

"You're proving to be full of surprises, Courier. Most prefer their slaves silent. However I will gladly oblige. It's interesting to note, Caesar had wanted to purchase Doctor Gannon from you for the conversation of someone similarly educated, in addition to his services as a physician, of course."

"I'll tell Arcade that. I'm sure he'll be flattered and deeply disturbed," she replied, avoiding saying more about why he was being encouraged to speak.

She pulled him away from the bed, leaving enough space behind him to circle him, which she then did. She tugged at his Legion red tunic and frowned when he winced. His back was stained with blood that must have clotted around the fabric. Cutting away the last of his bindings, she was pleased that he didn't move after letting his arms fall to his sides. Not even to rub his wrists, which she could tell from a twitch in the muscles of his arms that he wanted to.

"Go, get cleaned up. Bathroom is to your left. Water won't affect the collar, don't worry about it. Get that shirt off carefully, I'll leave you something to throw on outside the shower along with some healing powder. I don't think I'll need to tell you to come straight back here when you're done." 

Vulpes stood under the water for what felt like ages before he was able to peel his tunic off of his wound. It had been another case of twisted luck. He didn't know what a family of deathclaws were doing so close to the Fort. Maybe fate had wanted him torn limb from limb right then and there. But he was the best of Caesar's Frumentarii for a reason, and managed to avoid detection. ...up until he felt he was in the clear, only to nearly trip over a young one. It didn't alert the others, thank Mars, but it left a gash in his armor, and a scratch across his back. A minor wound, at least for one having been inflicted by a deathclaw.

He must not have been taking as long as he thought, as he didn't hear the Courier drop off a change of clothes until he had grabbed the soap and began to properly wash himself of the dust of the Mojave, and the blood of... varying sources. Finally starting to apply the healing powder to his wound, he recognized the bundle of cloth that had been left for him and groaned. The Courier seemed intent on depriving him of any sense of dignity, having left him some slave rags that she had somehow gotten cleaner than they probably had been to start. Now her parting comment on not needing to tell him to come straight back made sense. He wasn't about to give her companions the satisfaction of seeing him like this. He slipped it on reluctantly, and swiftly returned to the Courier's room, thankful that everyone else was preoccupied in one of the other rooms.

Vulpes closed the door behind him and turned to look at the young woman who he might soon find himself made to call his master. The Courier was waiting for him wearing an Old World military overcoat and an air of confidence. She held a black leather crop in her gloved hands and based on intimidation alone, she could give a black-clad Veteran Ranger a run for their money. With a flick of her wrist, the crop pointed him to a stack of papers on her desk. Small slips of paper, embossed in gold... Ah, yes, his lottery tickets. The stack looked about as tall as it had been before he had distributed them, not counting the extra height given by the ones that had been warped by water or fire. His eyes darted from the tickets, to her crop, to her face and back to the tickets, her next words confirming his suspicions.

"Count them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to playing Lonesome Road, and I just fell in love with that coat...
> 
> I also thought it would be funny if the Courier had something to do with the deathclaws, either them being there, or them not attacking Vulpes. Like if she was the Chosen One's daughter and knew Goris. Cut to the NCR and Legion fleeing Hoover Dam when a small army of deathclaws show up.


	4. Chapter 4

The Courier watched as Vulpes grabbed the stack of leaflets from the desk, starting to  silently flip through them.  She shook her head at him.  "Out loud, if you will."

He narrowed his eyes, before it clicked.  Words were his weapon of choice.  Well, along with his ripper.  That the Courier was encouraging him to speak either meant she was just that confident in herself, or, her desire to listen to his voice outweighed any risk of manipulation.  There was still the option that the Courier was hoping he would eventually let vital information slip, but she had killed anyone he'd have known the plans of.

Why not have some fun while testing his theory?  Vulpes restarted his tally,  counting the tickets out loud, in Latin.  " _Unus, duo, tres, quattuor_..."  His voice threatened to falter as he was reminded of just how many tickets had been made.  He tried to keep his thoughts on the how amusing his hypothesis was.  "... _sexaginta sex, sexaginta septem_."  He glanced up, hoping to see approval on his master's face, but her eyes were closed with a smile as she had been listening to him.  The Courier opened her eyes.

"Sixty seven, correct?"

Vulpes looked back down, avoiding her gaze.  "Yes, that is correct.  You have a keen eye, Courier.  This is nearly all of them, and I assume the rest had been reduced to ash before you arrived."

She placed the end of the crop under his chin, tilting his head back.  "You're smart, Vulpes, you know full well where I'm going with this.  But sixty seven," she shook her head, "that's far too many for your first punishment, especially since you have yet to act against me.  No, any real punishment would then have to be compared to this one."

Vulpes nodded slightly.  "If this were the Legion, you'd find it more practical to... find someone else's infraction to punish them for, and make me watch.  Make an example of them."

"Yes, 'Some are punished, the others made to watch,' I believe you said in Nipton.  Perhaps after I claim Hoover Dam, I'll take Lanius as a prisoner, tell the NCR I'll be hanging onto him for them while they're packing up and leaving the Mojave.  But... I don't think either of you will get the right message from watching the other's punishment.  For now though, you're my only slave, and there's no lack of crimes for you to pay for.  This evening is going to be for Camp Searchlight.  First of many.  I retrieved a total of ten irradiated dog tags for the NCR.  That's a much more manageable number, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is."

"You should be grateful."

"I am.  Thank you."

"Thank you...?"  The Courier gestured for him to go on.

"Thank you... master?" he tried hopefully.

The Courier thought for a moment.  "...yes, that's good.  I'll tell you if I think of a title I like better.  Now, lean over my desk."

Vulpes set the stack of papers back down, reminding himself that he had suffered through much worse as he laid himself over her desk, wrapping his fingers over the edge.  Hearing the Courier approach he braced himself for the first blow, but it didn't come.  Instead he felt her gloved hand rubbing at the small of his back.  The action was obviously intended to get him to relax, but Vulpes refused to give her that opening.  He heard the smile in her voice when she pulled her hand back.

"Do what you will, but by the time you've earned your sixty seven lashes all at once, I'll have an unpleasant surprise ready for you."

She hiked up his rags so the bottom of them was around his waist, presenting his ass to her.  She noted that what little of his back she saw was covered in thin scars, and a couple of larger ones that could have come from a weapon or a beast.  She didn't need to think to know that the thinner ones were from a whip--this was the Legion they were talking about.  But all of them ended at his hips, leaving his buttocks a clean slate.  Not that she planned on leaving any marks that wouldn't fade.  Not yet.

The Courier looked over his tense body once more before she brought her riding crop down onto his ass, the first blow to start tonight's punishment.  The fox yelped abruptly, clamping a hand over his mouth.  She must have been lost in thought long enough that he had dropped his guard.  "Oh my dear Vulpes," she purred, striking his ass with leather again.  "Do you know how excited I am to see you lose your composure?"  Another.  "We both know it won't happen tonight."  A fourth strike and he let himself slip again, groaning as she stopped to trace the red welts forming wherever her crop connected with his flesh. 

"You're not going to break easily."  _Quinque_.  "It will take much more than reminding you how deserving of this you are."  _Sex._   "Or how cowardly you were when I attacked the Fort."  _Septem_.  "Or how the only one willing to take you in, give you a place, is the same person who took everything from you."  _Octo_.  "No, none of that will have any effect on you, will it?"  _Novem_.  "It's just words.  You don't need me to remind you of these truths."  _Decem_.  "But... I think I will anyway."

Vulpes stayed quiet, trying to keep his breathing steady.  It had only been ten lashes, but the Courier's words made it stung much worse.  He turned his head to look back at her, not having been given an order to get up yet.  He saw her hand going for his neck, and he was suddenly pulled back onto his feet by the metal collar.  A metallic click and he saw a chain had been attached to the front of the collar, the other end being attached to an eye bolt on the side of the headboard of the bed, after he was roughly pulled over to that side of the room.

The Courier turned to her wardrobe, and Vulpes sat down on her bed to watch, only for her to snap her fingers and point down.  So he wasn't allowed on the bed it seemed.  He carefully sat down on the floor, flinching at how sore he was, but stayed quiet, hoping she wouldn't protest him watching.  She didn't, and was soon stripped down to her undershirt and a pair of shorts, neatly folding up the pre-war garment and putting it away.  She had pulled a pillow and a blanket off from the top of the wardrobe, and all of a sudden it had collided against his head, knocking him over.

Vulpes heard her laughing as he pushed the pillow aside, only for the blanket to replace it.  The Courier laid down in the large bed, and smiled down at him.  "Make yourself comfortable and get some rest.  Who knows, if you play your cards right, I might eventually allow you to sleep at the foot of my bed."


	5. Chapter 5

Vulpes awoke the next morning, unusually groggy and notably alone in the Courier's room. And still chained to her bed. He had already started to panic that he would be left like this, before the fog of sleep cleared and he noticed his tunic folded neatly on her bed, with a note on top, and a key on top of that.

The note detailed that she had taken the time to clean his clothes so he would have something closer to proper to wear in what would be considered 'out in public' for him for the time being, and that he should be thankful that she had offered him this luxury. Under that were a list of his orders for the morning. Unlock his leash, get dressed, return the key to her, join her and the others for breakfast, help clean the dishes, and await further orders. Hastily scribbled at the bottom of the paper the Courier had written: 'Couldn't find belt. Chain should be light enough to use. Think it would look cool.'

Not wanting to lose out on breakfast, he made quick work of unlocking himself, pulling off the slave rags he had been made to wear the previous night, slipping into more familiar clothes, tying the chain around his waist so the loose ends were far enough apart that they wouldn't be constantly clinking against each other.

Aside from the wonderful smell of food that made his stomach growl, the first thing he noticed was that breakfast was a group effort. The nightkin was at the far stove, frying up some sort of flatbread in large quantities, a tall stack forming on a platter. The caravaneer was cooking both eggs and meat, most likely gecko. The Courier was next to her, helping move the cooked food onto another set of platters, freeing up the pans for more to begin cooking. The ghoul stood behind them, chatting with the two about some pre-war dish that used meat and eggs as well. The Courier appeared to also be responsible for making sure everyone had enough coffee, bringing fresh cups over to the Follower's doctor, NCR sniper, and the Brotherhood Scribe who all sat scattered around the table, not awake in any practical sense.

The Courier looked up and smiled at Vulpes, setting a cup of hot coffee down motioning for him to sit, before sitting down with her own mug at the head of the table. "That should help you wake up after the Med-X," she noted right as he took his first sip of it.

Vulpes inhaled sharply, coughing as he choked. "M-Med-X?" he finally managed with a gasp.

"Just the past two times you've been asleep. I needed to make sure you didn't wake up before I needed you to."

He frowned to himself, watching the Scribe get up and start setting out plates for everyone, being the first of the remaining three to actually awaken. He paused after taking another drink. Carefully, he swallowed another sip. His thoughts pieced together, and he sighed. "Courier, did Silus speak to you on the subject of slave collars?" He omitted 'or didn't you realize you can't simply slap them on someone's neck?'.

"He spoke of it, but not to me." The others were sitting down now, the platters of food being placed in the middle of the table, being passed around as everyone filled their plates from them. "Just enough to serve as a constant reminder," the Courier whispered to him, confirming his fears.

*****

Vulpes simply listened to the conversation at the table while he ate, out of choice, he thought, denying that he was too hungry to add to it between bites, having gone the previous day with no food, and several days before that making due with what little he could scavenge. Most of it was gossip from the strip, talk of some shiny new gun or set of armor, and if someone would need to go get more food soon. It quieted down as food vanished from plates, and the Courier decided that she might as well properly introduce the group. He was expected to refer to them by name, although he'd be given time to adjust to calling the sniper 'Boone' instead of 'NCR dog', and the Follower's doctor 'Arcade' or 'Doctor Gannon' rather than 'the Courier's pet doctor'.

Somehow there was no food remaining when everyone was full, despite there being enough piled on the table to feed most of the Legion. "Courier, if I may comment, I thought this was your... squad, in a sense. The Battle of Hoover Dam is approaching as we both know, and yet nothing has been said of it all morning, when I would expect this to be the best time to discuss your strategy." Annoyance slipped into his voice, insulted that the one who could tilt the balance whichever way she wanted wasn't taking the war seriously.

The Courier paused as she helped clear the table. "I'll answer that after the dishes are clean." She then set the plates she was holding in the sink and walked off.

*****

Vulpes found her on the couch, polishing a .45 that looked suspiciously like the one the former Legate used. She set the pistol down when he approached her, and held out her hand. He looked at her for a moment, before realizing what she meant, pulling the key out of his pocket and placing it in her palm. "Good. Sit." She patted the spot beside her on the couch.

He sat, getting a closer look at the gun. "Is that really the Burned Man's weapon?"

"Yes." The Courier picked it back up and resumed polishing it.

"Where did you get it?" He knew he had somehow survived being tossed into the Grand Canyon, but he wasn't sure he wanted it to be proven.

"From the Burned Man himself."

Vulpes chuckled and leaned back, watching her careful treatment of the pistol. "You know what I am asking, Courier."

"I was in Zion for a while. I had meant to go to New Canaan, but I'm sure you're aware of what happened," she scowled. "The caravan I was with was attacked by White Legs, everyone else was killed. A Dead Horse kid found me and lead me to Joshua Graham. I helped him kill every last one of the White Legs, and he gave me his gun as a parting gift."

He watched her holster the gun. "You've been making allies all over, haven't you? I'd be interested in hearing more about your travels outside the Mojave sometime, but I believe you said you'd answer my question now?"

"Oh, of course," the Courier nodded. "You see, everyone here I met before I fully understood that I would be actually participating during the battle, a few of them before I even knew what was going on, actually." She seemed a bit embarrassed of this. "Anyways, there's nothing for us to discuss of it. We've got actual groups that know what they're doing on our side that will be taking care of any sort of strategy. And their strategies will allow us a clear path to push through to the Legate's camp. Everyone has been briefed. Everyone knows where their positions will be, where allies will be firing from, and most everyone's place is going to be by my side as we charge."

That answer satisfied him. "So, your note said to await further orders?"

"Yes, meet me down on the casino floor. I'll meet you there shortly."

*****

Today was set aside for him for manual labor. Specifically, cleaning every square inch of the casino that decades of dust had settled on, and clearing clutter. He had a few visitors who stopped to watch him work before heading off on whatever errands they needed to run. Cass had sat down and had a drink, as if he were some sort of stage act. She had laughed, saying something about a Legion bitch working like one of the slaves they kept. He had been trying to tune her out.

With very few people left in the casino, lunch and dinner weren't anywhere near as formal as breakfast had been, and for both he had simply looked up to find a tray of food waiting for him, with no sign of whoever had left it. The day ended and he still wasn't finished with his task, but an unfamiliar voice spoke from a speaker somewhere, telling him the Courier wanted him to come back up. She had pushed him off to take a shower before saying a word, but after sneezing from the dust. After getting cleaned up he changed back into his slave rags which had been designated as night clothes, he let the Courier lock him back to his tether, and they both went to sleep.

*****

As time went on, Vulpes found himself protesting the Courier's orders less and less, even as the Courier began using him to manage her sexual urges. Even when she informed him that her friends now had permission to use him if they so wished, he had simply nodded with an 'understood, master'. It took a while for the shyness to pass and the first one to come to him, but...

...Vulpes rolled out of his makeshift bed onto the hard floor. In the process he found himself trapped in a tangle of his leash, but ultimately freed from his nightmare. Pulling himself over to the bed he swiped the key off of the nightstand and unlocked both locks, trying to untangle the chain as quietly as he could. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but he realized that his body had betrayed him, his member hard from the nightmare. Dealing with this manually would be equivalent to saying he wanted the fate detailed in his subconscious he quickly concluded, and opted for a cold shower. He would be back before his captor noticed.

The Courier watched him leave the room through half closed eyes. She was being lenient, but come morning she could find out what he had dreamt of, and then make good use of it.


	6. Chapter 6

Vulpes lay awake early in the morning, going over his current situation. Caesar was dead. Lucius was dead. Antony and Otho were dead, and judging from the contamination at Cottonwood Cove, Aurelius and Severus were dead too. The Courier had reclaimed Nelson for the NCR a few weeks back, so Dead Sea was dead, too. He tried to remember who else was stationed on the west side of the river. The hostages held in Techatticup Mine had been rescued by the Courier, too, so Alexus was dead, another decanus.  
  
He knew Karl had failed his mission with the Great Khans, and Picus had last sent a report over a week ago. Everyone else should have slipped under the radar the moment they figured out Caesar had been killed, ceasing all radio transmissions. That left Alerio, Cato, and Gabban. He was certain they were loyal to himself rather than Lanius, and he now realized he had made the mistake of not seeking out Alerio, who was stationed on The Strip. If the Frumentarius was still alive, he was probably aware of Vulpes' position, even if under the impression that his leader had been killed shortly after the Courier had taken him into her fortress.  
  
Past Caesar, it didn't matter to him that these men were dead, not individually. No, it was that enough were dead that the chain of command was no more. His mind drifted to the thought of his Frumentarii, who did matter to him on an individual level. They were his men after all; he was responsible for them.  
  
Cut off from the rest of the world, his first task would be getting the Courier to trust him. Of course he knew he wasn't going to turn against her. He had come to her for guidance, and she had taken her place as his lord and master without a single word from him. And he had gone with it, as this was exactly the kind of guidance he needed.  
  
Trust was going to be hard, though. He trusted her to not trust him just yet. If he was too subservient, she'd get suspicious. Too defiant and she'd have him on a short leash. Possibly literally, he thought with a glance to his chain. A balance would be needed, enough obedience that he didn't anger her, but speak freely enough that she won't suspect him of hiding something. Deciding that this was a good place to start for a strategy, he considered going back to sleep, only for the Courier to wake up and drag him out of his makeshift bed.  
  
*****  
  
The Courier passed him a cup of coffee over the empty table. Everyone else seemed to be, well, elsewhere, running confidential errands. A few of the errands couldn't have been top secret, unless the Courier classified groceries as confidential. "I didn't drug you last night, if you were wondering."  
  
"Yes, I noticed," he replied bitterly, as much as the dark liquid in his mug was. It was apparent that the drugs were the only thing allowing him sleep.  
  
"So," she began, leaning over the table towards him with her chin resting on her hands, "What was your nightmare about?"  
  
He coughed, wondering if getting him to choke was her goal. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."  
  
The Courier narrowed her eyes. "I watched you let yourself out of my room to take a shower. Either you tell me exactly what it was about, or I'll be forced to assume you were doing it to test your boundaries. I'll even give you a hint: only one of these will result in your punishment."  
  
Vulpes looked down, hesitant for a moment. He might as well get it off his chest and put his fears to rest. "I dreamt that... that you had taken me as a... sex slave." He glanced up, nothing having changed on her face. "But I wasn't objecting to it. I didn't even seem aware, just obedient. Before I was able to wake up, you told me you gave your companions permission to use me, and I accepted that." He grimaced, daring to take another look at her.  
  
His master now looked at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Vulpes, you wouldn't happen to have had precognitive dreams before, have you?" The Courier continued as that sank in. "I was going to be doing you a favor, give you time to get used to your new surroundings, assign you some basic tasks so you can adjust to receiving orders from me..."

Vulpes calmly stood up, turned, and _ran_. The Courier could rob him of whatever dignities she wanted, but he would not be her or anyone's whore. He reached the elevator and pressed rapidly at the call button, only for the unusually cheerful voice from the previous evening to interrupt him before he could even figure out where he would be going.  
  
"Sorry Vulpes, but the Courier says you're not supposed to leave this floor!"  
  
He pressed his back against the doors as she approached, leash in hand. She had him cornered, and he hated it. The chain was swiftly locked onto his collar, a few links dangling loosely on his end this time. He only had just enough time to notice this before he was being dragged forward by his neck, nearly pulling him over.  
  
Bringing him back to her room, the Courier moved behind him and shoved him face down onto her bed. "Sit up, strip, and hold your wrists out," she snapped at him while locking the door. She sat down on top of her desk to watch him, crossing her legs. "You don't have to strip if you don't mind having only slave rags to wear when I cut these off of you," she added.  
  
Vulpes' thought was interrupted, his protest dying in his throat. He scrambled to a sitting position and pulled his tunic off and then over the chain, and held his wrists out for her. Even as she hopped off the desk and approached him with a pair of leather cuffs and placed them around his wrists. Even as she linked those to his collar by the loose bit of chain, preventing him from moving his hands more than an inch past his neck, up or down. The other end of his now shorter leash was secured behind him to the bed, and he frowned slightly as he turned his attention back to the Courier in front of him and the strip of fabric she was placing over his eyes.  
  
"Courier, please," he protested in a whisper.  
  
He felt the Courier's hand against his cheek, reassuring him. "Shh. I'm going to take care of you. Open your mouth." Again, he followed her orders, instinctively on one level, and out of trust on another. Cloth filled his mouth, and another strip of fabric tied around him held it in place. Gently he was pushed onto his back, soft pillows under his head, and a weight settled down onto his legs. Bare skin against bare skin, the Courier was fast to strip it seemed. She moved up onto his lap and he could feel her breath on his cheek before she placed a kiss on that very spot.  
  
"This was my intent from the start, but I'm sure you've figured that out by now, haven't you?" A smile was clear in her voice, and he shivered as her fingers brushed against his flanks. "I'm sure you suspected it from the moment you woke up in this room as much as you denied the possibility. Did you think I wasn't interested in this sort of thing? Just because I never traded caps for company that I could have spent on bullets, or because I never slept with one of my traveling companions, risking..." she paused, trying to get the word, "Awkwardness? Distraction? I don't get distracted, and I'm sure you've also noticed I've been very busy."  
  
He laughed at how wrong she was about getting distracted, knowing full well how many days she had spent looting any vault she came across. His muffled laugh stopped when he felt a sudden sharp pain as she pinched a nipple between her thumb and index finger, rolling the bud between them. He groaned into his gag, stopping when she let go, right as he was noticing it was starting to cause his body to... react. Her fingers moved to his stomach, his flesh twitching under her touch that he couldn't anticipate. He felt her body against his side, an arm draped over his chest now as she pressed her mouth against his neck, leaving her marks in a line with her teeth.

"I was going to take my time with you, you know, work you up to even just this. The first step might have been for you to give me a shoulder rub after a long day, for instance. Have your day to day work involve more waiting on me, personally, as time goes on. Then I'd make more intimate things innocent. Call you into the bath to help me clean a wound I can't reach. Let you see my body as if there were nothing more to it. Do you _see_ the compromise I came to with my plans?" She giggled at her joke. "If that was too subtle, the compromise is that I'm _not_ letting you see. Not yet. You'll earn it. In time."  
  
Vulpes sighed inwardly. He didn't want to earn that. Didn't want this to continue. No, he wanted to earn her permission to leave the Lucky 38 with the rest of her friends, to serve her the way he had served Caesar. The Courier was mocking him, she had to have been. She must have known full well what he wanted, and wasn't going to offer him the chance to earn it. Had she already decided he would never step outside again? Was she waiting for the dam to be won and the Legion driven out, so there was no risk of assassins coming after him? He remembered one of the first things she had said to him the other night. It was clear she didn't want him in danger so she could see his punishment through. The idea that he would never be forgiven for his crimes did not bode well for him ever seeing the sun again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the small update, just needed to get this out there, it's been taking up space in my head.
> 
> This is the part where I put out a request for a beta, since my previous one, who happened to be my little sister, now has work and classes again. And she's never played Fallout, so while she's been a help, she can't help with the setting or characterizations.

He had given up trying to predict where she would touch him next. She was playing with him, and the blindfold gave her an edge. It felt like hours had passed, and she was slowing wearing him down with gentle, almost loving touches. He thought he only spaced out for a moment, but when things came back into focus, he found to his dismay that she had managed to pinpoint several different spots that elicited a physical response from his body. His cock was hard and she hadn't touched it once. She finally came close when she dragged light fingertips down the sides of his pelvis, and he bucked his hips reflexively. Suddenly all contact stopped, and he heard the Courier laugh.

"You lasted pretty long, I'll give you that."

He kept his shame from showing on his face, masking it with anger instead, biting down on cloth with a growl. Anger at her for making his body react, anger at his body for reacting. He had thought himself above such things, had never given in to his desires, had hardly felt any such desires in the first place. Hence the shame he directed at himself. During any encounter up until then he always remained composed and completely in control of both himself and the other party. Most importantly, it had always been in the name of Caesar, whether he was gathering information from easily persuaded profligates, or doing his duty to breed with the few slaves who were worthy of it.

The Courier's touches continued, fingers now brushing against his erection. He was going to remain in control. He wouldn't let the Courier win, wouldn't let her get any further. 

"Have you ever even slept with someone who wasn't a slave? Ha, even less likely, have you ever had someone else in control? No, not unless Caesar himself had ordered you to lie with him. While I did speak with him before I killed him, I didn't ask if he ever fucked his soldiers. I can't say I'd judge him, or anyone for that matter in that position, for taking advantage of at least one out of so many fit men, all eager to serve their lord."

Vulpes grumbled something more articulated than general disapproval, so the Courier humored him and untied his gag.

"Of course you wouldn't blame him, it would be hypocrisy otherwise," he remarked with a sneer. "And while I've known you to be a degenerate, I would never have guessed that you were the sort to fantasize about such things."

The Courier's hand closed around his testicles with a firm grip, and he let out a gasp. "I keep my daydreams to myself, thank you."

"Clearly not, or else I doubt I'd be in this position," Vulpes managed to grind out through clenched teeth.


	8. Chapter 8

So the Courier had her... quirks. Did she actually have fantasies of watching him with another man? A pit formed in his stomach as he recalled his dream, no, nightmare of him being 'free to use'. But would she actually make him do that? Her apparent lack of any sort of sexual history opened up the possibility that she was the sort who was usually content to observe.

His mind wandered in an unusually perverse direction, wondering what would have happened if she hadn't wiped out the Fort, and instead had seized control. Would he have been the only one singled out again, or would she have formed a harem of sorts? That sounded closer to the Courier's style, sitting back while the soldiers she had chosen fucked each other for her enjoyment. If she had brought more than her ragtag gang with her for the attack, he knew she could have pulled it off, too.

Vulpes was abruptly brought back to the present as he felt the Courier doing... Something, between his legs.

"You were spacing off," she explained, and he realized he was feeling rough twine against his scrotum, a split second before she pulled it tight, tying off his testes. It wasn't pleasant, as the string dug into his skin, but his erection didn't waver in the slightest. Her hand wrapped firmly around his shaft now, and she started stroking.

With him actively trying to avoid orgasm, it took longer to realize what the Courier was trying to do. He soon felt the point of no return approaching, but something, the string, was holding him just out of reach of it. The Courier let go, and gave him a moment to recover before resuming the stroking. The second time she stopped, he forced a laugh. "Are you expecting me to beg, Courier?" That had been met with a laugh of her own.

It must have been an hour into this repetition that Vulpes realized that he was begging her for release.  She obliged.

* * *

 

He must have passed out, _another effect of her drugs_ , he thought, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the smell of gecko steak. The Courier pressed a strip of the meat against his lips when she noticed he was awake, and he opened his mouth, the growling of his stomach drowning out any voice in his head saying things about his dignity. He tried to stretch, to open his eyes, only to find he was still blindfolded and bound on the Courier's bed. Breakfast in bed then, apparently an old world luxury. Who was the slave, with her sitting next to him, feeding him by hand?

The Courier could do what she wanted though. She had taken some sort of amusement from him, he had let her bind him to do so.

While 'sex slave' sounded like there would have been some amount of breeding involved, Vulpes felt almost insulted as he realized just how unlikely it was that the Courier would be as impractical as to get herself pregnant with the battle for the Dam still approaching. No, she was simply using his body for her own entertainment, her own pleasure. If she had the intent of bearing a child with him, he might still retain his dignity.

There was still hope, of course. Strategically it would have made no sense to wait until after the Dam was won to enact her plan that would eventually lead him here. Perhaps she thought it would be a waste not to make use of him in the span leading up to the right time. That was another blow to his dignity though. While he knew she was smart not to trust him, she could have at least discussed the idea of having him serve her as a spy, a soldier, a tactician perhaps. What was there to discuss, though? If she wanted him to be any of those things, she would simply make him. Likewise, if she didn't, she simply would not. That was what he had come to expect from the woman, with how much information passed through the head of the Frumentarii.

He soon finished the last of the steak the Courier was feeding him, and felt her stand up from the bed, heard he open and close the door twice, before he felt her over him again, this time unfastening the chains from the cuffs around his wrists.

Vulpes knew what the Courier looked like.  What good were the talents of a spy if you couldn't identify your target?  Still, she was the first thing he saw upon removing his blindfold, and he took a moment to take in the sight of her, all the little details that he'd missed or were usually hidden under armor.  
  
She was incredibly young, almost too young to have any actual rank in the Legion, if she were a man at least.  Still, her eyes had a brightness one didn't normally see in someone who had lost their childhood.  Did she still consider this to be her's?  He didn't like the idea that she would think that she was just playing a game of sorts with him.  He quickly decided to turn his attention back to her physical traits, rather than speculate on her current mental state.  
  
She turned her back to him as she rummaged through her wardrobe, looking for that day's outfit or set of armor.  Her long brown hair was draped over her shoulders, only the hint of the braid remaining, as she hadn't bothered to fix it one way or the other.  It was impractical, he thought, especially if she got caught in close combat, hair was incredibly easy to grab onto, and would lead to a swift defeat.  But every morning and night she took the time to secure it in a long braid that could be tucked under her coat or in a helmet, and if any of her companions had questioned her on it, they had done it early on and she had clearly silenced them on the matter.  
  
In the end, the Courier pulled out an old beaten up vault suit, patched and reinforced with bits of armor, the number 13 still visible on the back.  "Just got to run an errand, but even if I'm avoiding the local wildlife, anything lighter than this..." she trailed off before shaking her head.  "Can I trust you to sit tight for a few hours alone?  I think someone should be back today, but until then you can just ask Yes Man if you need something."  She holstered a strange looking energy pistol that glowed blue next to her .45, and left once he had confirmed that he wouldn't be causing any trouble.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that the Courier avoided actual sex with Vulpes, I copped out of writing sex with Vulpes, and I'm giving the explanation that will show up eventually that she's not quite ready, and/or doesn't think Vulpes has earned it yet. I caught a few errors at the last moment, if you see any that's the cue for any potential beta readers contact me, 'kay? Also there's a total of one thing I need suggestions for... what could possibly upset/anger/scare Vulpes enough that he would stupidly flee from the Lucky 38 with a collar around his neck that could potentially explode?


	9. Chapter 9

With the Courier gone for the day and the Lucky 38 empty for at least the morning, and with apparently nothing to do, Vulpes decided he could at least let himself feel comfortable, pulling on some simple leather armor. Apparently the Courier had a wardrobe stuffed full of clothing that was to be used for scrap at some point. He thought he felt something like a knife in one of the pockets, but left it alone, in the off chance that simply touching it would get him into trouble.

He then reached the issue of not having any orders. He could wait for someone to return, but who would be the first? What if, whoever it was, was annoyed that they found him not doing anything productive? He sighed and rubbed his head. He was probably overthinking it. In the meantime the Lucky 38 was eerily silent. At least, until he heard the elevator start up. He froze as the doors opened, and a man in a brown suit stepped out. It was Alerio.

"While I'd enjoy mocking your current situation, his former subordinate sneered at him, "the others are set to carry out the Courier's assassination in a few minutes, and we don't know how long we will have a clear path of escape once the profligates notice."

Vulpes made no move to approach him. As confident as he was in his men, there was no way Alerio could have made it all the way here. Unless the Courier had allowed him to. It was too perfect. The entire building was empty save him, the Courier would be back who-knows-when, and it had been so long since he had been in contact with his men that the Courier had plenty of time to form an arrangement of sorts with them. Specifically, an arrangement that gave her an easy way to test his loyalty.

He wasn't going to fall for it. No, he was going to prove that she could trust him enough that he could make himself useful to her.

Alerio moved to grab him, starting to tell him to snap out of it and get going, when Vulpes instinctively drew and lashed out with the concealed combat knife, drawing blood, Alerio staggering back. A second slash brought more blood and knocked him to the floor. Severed an artery, perhaps, Vulpes thought. Weakly clutching at his gashes, a folded piece of paper fell from his hand, which was immediately snatched up. Vulpes unfolded it and cursed as he scanned over what was clearly the details of the plans to assassinate the Courier while rescuing the former leader of the Frumentarii. But what kind of idiot would be holding that when it should be concealed...? 

Again, Vulpes swore as he slammed the elevator button for the ground floor. He must have clearly looked paranoid, and Alerio was simply going to offer up proof of his claims. He could have let himself be lead to the others, and stopped the assassination right then and there. Still, he could have made a mistake that got the Courier killed, rather than simply inconvenienced him on the way to keep the Courier from getting killed by his own men.

He met no resistance as he pushed open the doors leading to the Strip, and only a few glances as he made his way into Freeside. Still, he didn't believe that Alerio had somehow managed to hack House's security, or the Courier's security, or whatever had stopped him from calling the elevator the other day.

According to the written plan, the Courier was to be ambushed from the crumbling building located just inside Freeside's East gate, where she made a habit to stop to get a tip from Rotface. Weaving around those too stupid to know to get out of his way, he had two clear shots hooking a right at the King's for the final stretch of road.

Vulpes wondered what he had expected to find when he rounded the last corner, ducking into the ruined building. The Courier was still alive, of course, and she stood over where she had Gabban and Cato cornered, the two slumped against the wall. The Courier twirled a small throwing knife in her fingers, and a Securitron stood next to her.

"How nice of you to join us, Vulpes," she greeted him, her eyes still on her would-be assassins, who were struggling to sit up to look at him. "Just a bit of Mother Darkness, since I'm sure you're wondering. They wouldn't let me get close enough for my cattle prod to be of any use. For you, however, I won't be needing either..."

She pushed a button on her PipBoy and the collar around his neck produced a powerful jolt of electricity, sending Vulpes crumpling to the ground with an undignified yelp in pain. "Punishments are most effective when dealt immediately after the infraction," she continued, "But that doesn't mean I'm done with you."

The Courier finally turned around to face her slave as he stood back up, only to press the button again a fraction of a second before he was properly on his feet. When the pain subsided again, Vulpes looked up at her warily, not making a move to stand again until she nodded at him. "Since you're here, if I give them enough of the antidote so they can stand, would you help me get them back to the casino?"


	10. Chapter 10

Stepping out of the elevator they found Arcade bandaging up Alerio. Despite the large amount of blood soaking into the carpeting, he was still very much alive, and handcuffed to a chair.

"Oh, you're back early. Don't mind me. I just assumed that, even if you wanted this guy dead, you'd like less of his blood staining the floor."

The Courier laughed. She looked over Alerio, glancing over at Vulpes. She then turned back to Arcade's prisoner, eyeing the blood staining the bandages around his waist. "Wow, Yes Man wasn't kidding. You'd have killed him if I had forgotten a sharper knife. Maybe cut clean in half if you had gotten your hands on your ripper. Speaking of which." The Courier held out her hand, and Vulpes drew the knife in question back out, and set it in her palm. Tucking it away, she pulled two small vials out and pressed them into his hand. "Second dose of the antidote. Give it to them, and I'll meet you up there."

He didn't get a chance to ask what she meant by 'up there' before the securitron dragged him back into the elevator.

The Courier stepped out of the elevator, Arcade on her heels, who was trying his best to escort Alerio without aggravating his wounds. She peered over the balcony down at Gabban and Cato. The two sat on the sofa looking much more alert than they had earlier, thankfully. Then she looked at Vulpes, who had been looking out the huge window. He turned as she stepped off the carpet, her boots clicking on the hard floor. She had changed into her favorite old-world military coat, with her riding crop at her side.

She took a seat opposite the Legionaries and motioned for Vulpes to join her. He sat down, only for her firm hand to shove him off the couch, onto his knees at her side. So that was his place, then. He cast his eyes downwards as she placed her hand on his head. He heard his men scoff.

"Envious that a woman would touch me without orders and threats?" In his peripheral vision they went still. Good.

The Courier ran her fingers through his hair, thinking before addressing the Legionaries. "The obvious aside, why?"

"Why... Try to kill you?" Cato was the first to reply.

"Why any of it. Why within Freeside's walls, where every last person is on my side? Why now, when its far too late for anything you do to save the Legion? Why such a pathetic attempt, I saw your scope long before you pulled the trigger. Trying to snipe me? From a rooftop? No, I know every last inch of this place, I would have noticed something off even if I was blindfolded." Vulpes felt her hand tense, and tried to stay still under her. She finally relaxed and leaned back before finishing her rant. "Why try to save your leader when he deserted and came to me on his own?"

The three glanced at each other, not sure who should answer, or how to answer.

"Killing you was our main priority. The Legate said he would have us pardoned if we did. We hoped that he would extend that to Vulpes if we brought him with."

"And, out of the three of you, no one thought he was, say, lying?"

"The Legate wouldn't--"

"The Legate wouldn't have sent any of you if he actually expected this to be more than a suicide mission," Vulpes interrupted. To the others it felt like he was glaring down at them, even as he sat on the floor.

Though after everything that happened, Lanius would want to take the Courier on himself. And he certainly didn't approve of the methods used by the Frumentarii. So So an order like that was nothing but a death sentence. If they somehow succeeded, they would have just created another reason for their execution. The Courier's prisoners found themselves glancing away as they all reached this conclusion. The Courier smiled as she leaned back, petting Vulpes' head.

"So, as I see it, there are a few options. You could forget the Legion and take on new identities, try to find another place for yourselves. You could go face the Legate and your impending crucifixion. I could always hand you over to the NCR, it's just a short walk to the embassy. Or, you could try to prove that you all could be of use to me, somehow or another. Of course, since I simply can, those first two aren't allowed. Like hell I'm going to let a single one of you walk out of here, or worse, suffer punishment where I can't watch."

Vulpes chuckled to himself, certain that the Courier could find a way to watch the Legate's camp if she really wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, moments before submitting any new chapter:  
> "And... last word written, no squiggly red lines, go, go, go, that's good enough, fuck you I'm done with you, chapter!"
> 
> Also I might have lost some italics or something, I can't remember where I'd have put them.
> 
> OH WELL.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally still alive guys. I'd say updates might get more sporadic, but... I'm kinda already there, aren't I?

"I'll give you all some time to think, make yourselves at home.  Its hard enough keeping my sniper from shooting Inculta here, so the penthouse is all yours.  ...just not the balcony, behind that curtain, that curtain, or past any Securitron."  
  
Everyone including Arcade glanced around to see just how little that would allow.  Still, a window was more than Vulpes had.  ...and more than Arcade had, the Follower noticed.  
  
"Now," the Courier stood up, "I've got more important things to do than babysit some wannabe assassins, things that I was trying to do before I was interrupted by that pathetic excuse of an assassination attempt.  If there's any problem just tell a Securitron and I'll bother to care eventually."  She waved her hand dismissively.  "If any of you try anything I've decided I don't like, the nearest Securitron will inform you, killing you in the process if you're lucky."  
  
She grabbed Vulpes by the collar and pulled him roughly to his feet, dragging him behind her.  Arcade met her eyes as they entered the elevator, but said nothing as they returned to the Presidential Suite.

* * *

  
The three of them sat down around the coffee table.  Vulpes once again found himself at the Courier's feet, her hand resting on top of his head.  
  
"First, we can't tell Boone."  
  
Arcade and Vulpes nodded in agreement.   Regardless of how they were going to deal with these new guests, they would have no need for a decision if the sniper got to them.  
  
"Second," the Courier continued, "the Penthouse is a temporary solution.  It's the second worst place for them to be, after here, where Boone will eventually be again.  So, Vulpes, I need you to get one of the... normal rooms, I guess, cleaned up.  You'll probably just have to dust, this place's been sealed up long enough."  
  
Vulpes felt her hand leave, and he let himself relax a little, not noticing how tense he had been.  
  
"All I wanted to to today was make a trip to the Big Empty, is that too much to ask for?"  She glanced at Arcade, who hadn't realized she wasn't being rhetorical.  "Is it, Arcade?"  
  
"What?  Uh, no.  No, it's not too much to ask for at all."  
  
"Well, I'm still going today."  She stood up and gave Vulpes a pat on the head.  He became tense again, this time from having to restrain himself.  "So, I need you to finish up before I get back.  Shouldn't be too hard, I'll even take my time there."  
  
The Courier was almost mocking him now, but Vulpes wasn't going to let it get to him.  Not this early, at least.  
  
"I will get on it right away, Courier," he replied, standing up as well once she had stopped patting him like a dog.

* * *

 

Following the Courier's departure, there were a few moments of silence as the Frumentarii processed what had just happened.  Alerio was the first to break the silence.  
  
"There's three of us, and two couches."  
  
"No shit," Cato muttered.  He stood up and circled the room, out to the boundaries the Courier had set.  He backed up under the staircase until he could see around one of the doorways.  Another pair of couches sat right on the other side of the wall.  Further back sat a giant monitor, surrounded by a few smaller screens, guarded by a Securitron.  Nothing was displayed on them, so it was no use getting filled with bullets investigating it further.  
  
"Well I'm injured, so I get one of the couches," Alerio said, stretching out.  
  
Cato sat back down and shoved him over.  "Vulpes doesn't just stab people who haven't done something to deserve it.  You're not getting any special treatment."  
  
"For all the times you've had to sleep on the dirt," Gabban sighed, shaking his head at the other two, "You're arguing over couches when any surface in this place is an improvement."  
  
Gabban didn't stop them from bickering, however.  They were all tired, and the alternative was thinking about what was going to happen to them, and just what had happened to their leader.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look at the first time Vulpes met the Courier. And stuff.

Vulpes' return was announced by the ding of the elevator, followed by a coughing fit as he stepped out.  
  
"That bad, huh?"  Vulpes only nodded in reply.  "Well, I'd crack a window if there were any."  
  
Vulpes grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the table, across from Arcade, and gulped down half the bottle before replying.  "I appreciate the thought," he scoffed, clearly not appreciative at all.  
  
"We can try to convince her to have you clean up the Cocktail Lounge next?  That has windows."  
  


* * *

  
  
"So, Gannon, tell me what you know about the Courier."  
  
"Is this an interrogation?"  
  
"Would you prefer that?"  
  
"I think I've had enough nightmares about that to last a lifetime, thank you.  I mean, uh, no, no interrogations."  
  
Vulpes leaned forwards in his seat.  "Don't worry, I'm not asking about you.  Though that's only because there aren't many questions I don't already have the answers to."  
  
Arcade visibly paled.  "W-Well..."  
  
"She's going to find out eventually.  It won't be from me, of course, but your poor attempts at deflecting most likely made her suspicious a long time ago."  
  
"I need to know if I can trust her!  I mean, of course I trust her, everyone seems to trust her, but how do I know she doesn't have some sort of vendetta against the Enclave?"  
  
Vulpes thought for a moment.  "I still have connections outside of the Legion.  I could easily find out how she'd react, but as my previous attempts at intel gathering led to dead ends, I'd need your cooperation.  Where she's from, and what her real name is should be sufficient to start."  
  
"Then we're out of luck.  Not even the Courier herself could tell you that."  
  
The Courier had lost her memories to a pair of bullets.  The entire Mojave knew her story, how she was shot in the head and buried by the head of the Chairmen, all for the Platinum Chip, whatever that did.  That she rose from the grave was generally accepted as hyperbole, to make it sound interesting, rather than that she was shot and didn't die.  Arcade couldn't believe it, either, but he sat and told Vulpes the story the Courier had told him, the same story the doctor who had fixed her up had confirmed.  The Courier did remember she was a Courier, but things like how long she'd been at it, or where she came from, or what her name actually was were all lost to her.  
  
Still, Vulpes recalled, back in Nipton, even as she was working to piece herself back together, she was still whoever she had been before being shot in the head.  He remembered her carefully walking down the street towards the town hall, stopping at each crucifix, looking over each dying Powder Ganger, before picking up a discarded lottery ticking and moving to the next.  She stopped right before the intersection as his men had fanned out, taking a moment to slip the collected tickets into her pocket.  
  
He approached and told her what he needed of her; to spread word of the Legion's actions.  She looked over him as he spoke, listening carefully to his voice, hoping for a memory to appear, to see if she knew him, or of the Legion.  She had actually hoped she didn't have anything to remember of them.  The Courier spoke slowly, pausing to search for the right word, or simply to put a hand to her forehead.  She asked about his lottery, a faint smile on her lips as he told her how it had played out.  The way her armor was scorched suggested she had no reason to pity the victims.  Half way through a sentence she held up her hand.  
  
"Not to interrupt, but I need just one second here."  
  
Without another word she turned and drew an old 10mm, and shot each and every Powder Ganger straight through the skull.  She turned back, holstering her pistol.  
  
"They were making my headache worse."  
  


* * *

  
  
Vulpes spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding the subject that was slowly eating away at him.  That the Courier would allow the others to get the same "use" out of him that she was getting.  If the Courier had not yet proposed anything to them, bringing it up would make continued co-habitation incredibly awkward.  If she had, bringing it up would probably result in whoever he asked deciding that now was as good a time as any.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ED-E returns, the Courier subjects the Frumentarii to her cooking, and I continue to ignore the fact that this was supposed to be a smut fill. (Though next chapter should be that.)

The Courier's return later that evening was punctuated with the sound of elevator doors, followed by a few tinny notes of a song Vulpes hadn't heard since Nipton.

"Oh great, ED-E's back," Arcade sighed, flipping to the next page of his book.

"Eddy?" Vulpes got up and went out to the hall to greet the Courier, only to nearly hit his head on a floating metal orb. The thing beeped frantically at him.

The Courier came up behind it and gave it a pat on it's, well, _head_ , one could say. "Oh come on ED-E, I already went over this with you on the way here." ED-E bleeped some more, this time directed at her. "No, none of that, not unless he gives you a reason." More beeps followed, the tone of which could have been described as 'sad', if one was under the impression the floating orb had feelings.

Vulpes glanced back at Arcade, looking a bit lost.

"EyeBot, Enclave technology, apparently traveled here from the other side of the country. Courier's 'round friend', and no, we haven't met anyone besides her that can understand it." The Courier shot a glare at Arcade. "Sorry, him."

"ED-E and I did some hunting on our way back, and we'll be making dinner for our guests." The Courier patted her bag.

Arcade sighed, "While the rest of us get to eat whatever we find in the back of the fridge?"

The Courier laughed a little. "Trust me on this, Arcade. Trust me."

* * *

Arcade wasn't sure why the Courier had suddenly sent him off with Vulpes to inform their guests that their benevolent captor wasn't going to starve them, or why he was to make it clear that they should be very thankful for this. But he was. And he did. To the best of his ability, at least. Hearing Vulpes both refer to him and use the word "potential" was a bit unnerving.

The Courier didn't take long, soon joining the rest of them and sitting on the couch around the small table. "Safe to go back," she whispered to Arcade, who nodded, a bit confused, but returned to the presidential suite.

She threw a bottle of purified water at each of the Legionaries, only Vulpes managing to snatch it out of the air. The others fumbled a little as they were hit in the stomach. She was merciful, however, and aimed for Alerio's head.

She shook her head, pretending to be disappointed, but unable to hide her wide smile. "Really, you didn't expect that? Knowing from experience how good my arm is?" She turned to Vulpes as she set down the tray of sandwiches she was holding in her off hand. "There aren't any requirements to become a Frumentarius?"

Vulpes laughed. "One would think, wouldn't they?" He leaned towards her as she sat down next to him. "They can never focus properly around each other, as if contempt clouds their senses." He spoke a bit louder, addressing his men without speaking to, or turning towards them. "There really is no point for them to be so petty anymore. It has always been about their rank, but it seems to be taking longer than it should for them to realize that there is none anymore. There's no favoritism for prisoners of war."

"The fact a five star hotel is their prison probably won't help them adjust," the Courier mused. "But we can discuss that later. I made food. It might be the only food you'll see for a while." Under her breath she whispered, "Though that could be a good thing."

Of course they were hesitant, accepting food from their jailer, especially food she claimed to have made herself. They were just sandwiches, nothing special, just some sort of meat the Courier had fried, and some prickly pear. Looked edible enough. Tasted... not fit for consumption. The texture of the meat suggested the same. The Courier held back a laugh watching their looks of disgust, all wondering if they were actually that hungry.

"What even is this?" Cato dared to ask.

"Bloatfly." she answered simply.

The Legionaries all paused. Vulpes continued eating, just a bit slower now though. Swallowing his current bite, he glanced at the others who were clearly disgusted. "It's unlikely that we'll get any alternative choices. Choke it down if you need to, but I can't think of anything more pathetic than someone starving to death while being served actual food."

The Courier gave Vulpes an odd look. "I... I can't believe you're actually eating it. You're either insane or incredibly stubborn. Just... Don't get sick please. Not that it's poisoned or anything."

"It doesn't _need_ poison!" snapped Alerio.

She shrugged. "Anyways, if you're not hungry now, there's a working fridge in your room. And if you'd forgotten, I'm kicking all of you out of here, I need the penthouse for things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The Courier enjoys having the penthouse to herself, and reminds Vulpes that he's her bitch.  
> Also special thanks to ghostofshe for putting up with my loathing of trying to make the words for this chapter work while trying to edit it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I grit my teeth and try to describe complex body positioning and rope usage and hope that even one person manages to visualize it.

For whatever reason, possibly House having gone to live in a computer, there weren't any chairs in front of the monitors in the penthouse. One could argue that it was pointless to have a chair with a screen that big, but one could also argue that there was no point in having a screen that big. The smaller terminals at the base of it were better used while standing, anyways. The Courier was not going to use these. She was in the penthouse simply to chat with Yes Man over their plans for the upcoming battle.

Vulpes wasn't sure why she needed to physically be there when the intercoms meant she could have this conversation from her bed if she wanted. But it was natural to question her reasons in his position. His position being on his hands and knees on the floor, the Courier sitting casually on his back, apparently too lazy to grab a chair from a few feet over. They both knew the real reason, and left it unsaid. Vulpes was fully aware that the Courier enjoyed reminding him of his station, and that she hadn't taken the chance to for a while now. The bloatfly sliders not counting since he ate it anyways, and was clearly intended for the other Frumentarii. He was more of a second thought at that time.

There really wasn't any physical challenge in supporting her weight in that position. Even as a spy who fought with words more than blades, he was still a Legionary, and compared to even a day of light training, this was effortless.

He knew the Courier held great power over the Mojave, but under Caesar he had never considered just how much power that actually was. The way she casually checked the factions in the area off her list. The NCR was on her side, but she was clearly not actually on their's. She had convinced Elder McNamara to fight on the NCR's side, disobeying direct orders from Colonel Moore to destroy the bunker. But he couldn't call it disobeying if the Colonel held no actual power over the Courier.

A path through a train tunnel lead straight to the gates of Nellis, allowing her to avoid the bombardment completely. He had seen them raise the aircraft from the bottom of Lake Mead, and was still in awe over it. The thought of seeing it fly over the Dam, dropping bombs... he was glad he would not see it flying towards him. He sighed just a little from the knowledge that he would not be seeing the battle at all. It must have been loud enough as the Courier paused as she was starting into detailing the weaponry the Brotherhood Paladins would be using.

"Something wrong?" she asked him, her tone oddly casual.

"No," he answered quietly, eyes on the rug under him. It wasn't his place to say anything. So he didn't.

"Hmm," the Courier hummed, petting his head the same way one would pet a dog, or how she pet that robot. "Bored, then? Don't worry, I'll have plenty of time to give you attention once I'm finished here."

Vulpes scowled a little at the treatment, but the knot forming in his stomach was quick to distract him from his annoyance.

* * *

 

Her update on the wasteland finished, the Courier led Vulpes up to the upper floor of the penthouse, and into an area sectioned off as a bedroom. Having him kneel beside the bed, she pulled a bundle of bright red rope from one of the large pockets of her coat. "A while back," she began, "I found a book. A book on rope. Not just rope, but an art form in which the body is bound. I'm sure you'd be able to appreciate something like that. At least, how I'll be doing it tonight."

Vulpes felt a shiver of anticipation run through him.

"Technically any old rope could work if I didn't care about rope burn, but I went through the trouble of treating this, making it perfect to use for this purpose." She started measuring out lengths of the rope, folding it over in specific spots until she came to the middle. "You should be thankful," she stated, peering down at him.

He glanced to the side. "Yes. Thank you... Master."

The Courier seemed pleased enough with this response, and resumed her work, kneeling down behind him. "Wrists behind your back," she commanded, and he obeyed. Oddly enough she began with his upper arms, wrapping the rope around them behind his back, holding them in position. She then wrapped up the rope that went between his arms, right against his arm, making it into a bundle, then passed the rope over his shoulder, crisscrossing it across his chest before coming back to the bundle, tying the rope against the inside of his other arm.

She looked him over before pushing on the back of his head. "Bend over. At your waist." She kept her hand there until his head was almost touching the floor. He wasn't sure he liked where this positioning seemed to be going, but he stayed silent. The rope was brought down to his wrists next, coiling around them, leaving the length between them and his upper arms taut. A few loops between his wrists and she moved to his ankles.

He heard a smile in her voice as she ordered him onto the balls of his feet, knees still on the floor. His ankles were bound in the same way his wrists were, the rope connecting them, again, pulled taut. He tried to move his arms, but while the rope gave enough not to be uncomfortable, it left no room for actual movement.

"This is an interesting method of forcing someone into a stress position," he casually noted, "as one would think the rope would act as support, taking some of the strain, but that does not seem to be the case here."

She took a seat on the bed, looking over her pet, her prisoner, her Fox, liking the way he looked with so many of his muscles flexed to hold the position. "Straining yet?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, well aware that he'd start to eventually, regardless of training.

"Good, because I had just been thinking about how I met an old friend of yours in The Divide..."

* * *

 

Alerio, Cato, and Gabban all looked around the room they'd be staying in now, then glanced at each other.  There was a couch and a bed.  Two of them would have to share the bed, unless someone took one for the team and slept on the floor.  Gabban rubbed his temples.  Normally there wouldn't even be anything to discuss, but the other two had made it personal.

"You can't just call dibs!"

"You're just mad that you didn't!"

He wondered if he could get them out into the hallway and lock the door.


	15. Status Update (And bonus Vulpes abuse)

Okay, so, I'm going to admit, I totally wrote myself into a corner here. I've been working on rewriting the first few chapters because aside from a few lines, I couldn't stand to read how little detail I put into them. I was thinking of just updating the rewritten chapters here, but that will cause problems when I get to the reordering of events. Should I just start posting the rewrites as new chapters and put a note on the original first chapter? I don't really want to abandon this... page? File? I don't know the etiquette for this. Maybe I can continue as-is, but quality aside I feel like I seriously messed up the order of events because I chickened out with what was _supposed_ to happen when Vulpes first tried to run away. And then loose plot threads that I apparently had thought up before I decided that the Courier was going to have amnesia...

 

_All comments will contribute towards fleshing out the scenes where the Courier torments Vulpes._

 

Might as well share the one scene I both finished and liked in what would have been chapter 15. Other than actually describing more of the action, I think I'm going to be keeping this scene intact. Gotta admit I spent quite a while trying to look up how those fancy shock batons work, the type where the entire thing is electrified, instead of having two contact points at the tip.

* * *

The Courier sat hunched over at her workbench, a soldering iron in hand.  She scowled at the wires she was working with, and pulled a multi-meter over to test them.  "How is this supposed to work?"  She looked at her dismantled cattle prod that she had placed on the table above her current focus.  "Cattle prod's got two contact points..."  She leaned back and picked up the telescoping baton she was working with it, absently expanding and contracting it a few times before rummaging through her pocket, pulling out a pack of mentats.  She popped one into her mouth and sat back up, starting to scribble down electrical diagrams.  
  
Vulpes tugged a little at the metal shock collar around his neck as he watched her work, remembering that it was last device to come from that workbench.

*****  
  
"Let's see how this works," the Courier said as she swung at him.  
Vulpes took a smooth step back, the baton only hitting air.  "You began too far back."  
The Courier huffed and thrust forward only for him to sidestep it.  She tried again and again to get a single strike to connect, as Vulpes continued to dodge, well aware that there would be consequences when the baton finally did connect.  
  
"For as fond as you are of that sort of weapon, you clearly have no idea how to use it."  
  
The Courier added more force with each swing, still continuing to miss.  
  
"You're far too reliant on the element of surprise."  
  
He lectured her on her stance, her grip on the baton, her follow through, and much to her annoyance, how badly she was letting her temper affect her attacks, as her movements became more haphazard with each attempt, each taunt.  
  
She paused to catch her breath.  Vulpes stood towards the other end of the hall, out of reach, smiling smugly at her.  
  
"So do you prefer ranged combat because you're lousy up close, or are you lousy at melee combat because you prefer to keep your distance?"  
  
He could practically see the last strand of the Courier's patience snap, and he managed to piece together what was about to happen mere seconds before she pressed a button on her Pip-Boy, and his legs gave out from the following electrical shock.

*****

"Shame I didn't have this thing back when I confronted the other Frumentarii, I could have a good sized collection by now.  And of course that means more of your former subordinates to see you reduced to this."

 


End file.
